Redux
by Lorena
Summary: After Voldemort is defeated, Ron goes back to Hogwarts, and the memories start to get to him...slash, RH.
1. First Meeting

Title: Redux

Author: Lorena

Rating: R for dark themes and a few sexual references...eventually.

Summary: Ron goes back to Hogwarts years after Voldemort is defeated, and the memories start to get to him – Harry/Ron.

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**Chapter 1- First Meeting**

_Now_

I don't want to go back.

I know that, even as I Apparate to King's Cross Station and make my way to the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, pushing a trolley carrying my things and two owls- mine and his. I've done this many times in the past, but this is the first time I'll do it alone. Without him.

The thought is an ache that's never left, and I'm beginning to understand that it never will. They say you can love more than once, but I've never figured out how. It was him, only him, and with every day that passes I'm increasingly convinced it will only ever be him.

With effort I force away the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. The past is the past, and it's over.

I watch with amusement as a young witch, obviously a first year, runs nervously toward the barrier. It is rather nerve-racking the first few times, but everyone gets used to it eventually.

After the girl disappears, I wait a moment and then follow her directly through the enchanted barrier and onto Platform 9 3/4.

I look around me and realize that nothing has changed since I was last here. The same bustling crowd huddles around the same scarlet steam engine labeled 'Hogwarts Express'.

I usually try to avoid the memories that surround me whenever I go anywhere he once was, but this time the pull is too strong. I head for the back of the train with my luggage.

To my surprise, the last compartment is empty- just as I had hoped. This was the compartment we had always used- him, me and Hermione. It was our private place, twice every year, where we would sit and plan, study, or just talk.

I stop fighting the memories and allow myself to slip through time...

_Then_

I was almost eleven years old, and my life wasn't perfect, but it was good. I had a loving family. I was about to start my first year at Hogwarts. And though I had no friends, I was sure I would meet some at Hogwarts. That's what Mum said, anyway, and I had to believe her.

I was pushing my trunk towards King's Cross Station when I started to wonder about something. My brothers had all told me about the enchanted barrier and how you had to go through it to get to the Hogwarts Express. What if I couldn't get through?

It was kind of hard to feel worried when I had my twin brothers laughing and teasing Percy all around me, with Ginny smiling and giggling at them. After all, everyone in my family had gotten through the barrier. So of course I could.

But then, I'd never been the best of my family.

My thoughts were distracted by our arrival at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. My brother Percy went through first, straightening his prefect's robes even as he ran. Then Fred, then George. I started to feel slightly green.

Nervously I prepared to run at the apparently quite solid wall, when a rather short black-haired boy I had never seen before approached my mum and asked uncertainly, "Excuse me?"

"Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." Mum said, smiling down at him in that way she did with small, frightened animals. I almost died of embarrassment right then. I wasn't sure why, but I was anxious to be liked by this strangely serious boy.

"Yes," he answered, a bit nervously, "The thing is- the thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get onto the platform, dear?" Mum asked, still smiling that absurd little smile. He nodded.

"No need to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

Even I, who had grown up knowing about how one got to the train and that it was perfectly okay to run through apparently quite solid barriers, thought her comments sounded a bit outrageous, but he nodded. "Er- okay..." he said, and wheeled toward the barrier.

Maybe he was Muggleborn and hadn't had experience with magic. Yes, that had to be it.

He crossed the barrier without a problem, and I felt just a bit relieved. If someone as nervous as he had been could do it, so could I.

"Now," Mum said softly, "I wonder who he could be and why he didn't know how to get onto the platform."

"Maybe he was a Muggleborn," I suggested, hoping she would smile and say, "Why, of course that's it, Ron, and I never thought of it."

But she just shook her head and said, "Don't be silly; the letter they send to Muggleborns is different than the one you got, it explains how to get onto the platform and how to find Diagon Alley and things. Think about things before you say them, Ron."

I flinched. It seemed I could never be as good as anyone else, like every suggestion I made was the wrong one, and somehow I could never get the affectionate looks she bestowed upon everyone. Even that boy, but never me.

I headed for the barrier with no more hesitation.


	2. First Kiss

**Chapter Two - First Kiss  
**  
_Now_

With a start I realize that three students - around second year or so - have just entered the compartment and are looking at me nervously. I smile at them, remembering a similar incident with my friends and I.

"It's all right, you can sit down. I don't bite," I promise them, and they smile tentatively.

The girl chooses the seat nearest me. "So you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, sir?"

It feels very odd to hear someone call me 'sir'. But I nod. "Do you like that class? And be honest, it's okay if you don't."

The boys laugh, and one comments, "She loves all of her classes."

She shrugs. "What's wrong with that?"

The smile on my face fades a bit as they remind me a bit too much of my friends and I. The boy who hasn't yet spoken notices- he's a sharp one, and I file that away for future usage. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head at them, knowing they can't imagine. "Nothing. I'm Professor Weasley, who are you?"

The looks on their faces are the kind once reserved for him. Awe, almost worship, fills their eyes and I realize that they've heard stories about me the way I had heard about him before we met. Funny that I once dreamed of having those sort of adoring looks turned on me. Now...now I'd give my soul to be nobody again.

"Weasley as in Ron Weasley, sir?" she asks.

"Yes."

They stare, and then abruptly look away, as though realizing what they're doing. "So, your names are..." I ask, to break the awkward silence.

"Er, I'm Caroline Davies."

"Roger Davies' daughter?"

She nods, looking surprised. "Do you know my father?"

"We were at school together, but he was a year above me, and in another House, so we didn't talk much. I was a big fan of his Quidditch, though." I look over at the boys.

They notice my gaze and quickly introduce themselves. Cedric Chang is the quieter of the two, the one who'd noticed my look earlier. The other is Robert Thomas.

I identify the parentage of each and wonder why I seem to be the only one of old schoolmates who didn't settle down and have a family or at least move in with the one they loved. Cedric smiles at me and says, "Before you ask, yes, my mother is Cho Chang, and yes, I've heard all about you from her. More about...Harry, though."

I feel something shiver in my chest at the name, and wonder what the boy's heard, exactly. Cho, back in the day, had some rather serious blackmail on me, involving an empty Quidditch stand, a Chocolate Frog, and a silly lover's quarrel.

Cedric and his friends settle down after a bit and begin to argue good-naturedly with each other. Cedric keeps glancing between the other two, and I remember a similar train ride years ago...

_Then_

"Hermione, will you take your nose out of your book for five seconds and talk to us?" I asked in a hurt voice, deftly reaching across the space between seats and pulling the book away from her. She glanced up, annoyed, but finally joined our conversation.

Harry smiled at me, clearly glad I had gotten her attention from whatever she was studying at the moment. She could be a pain, but Harry and I both cared about her and wanted her involved with us. It just took a good jolt to get her into the real world from wherever she went when she read.

We chatted as the plump witch with the snacks came by, then as we ate the sweets Harry bought. It had almost become a tradition by now, him buying candy for us all, and us eating it as if it were ours. I had given up arguing with him over it. This was our last train ride to Hogwarts, anyway, so why not enjoy it?

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and Hermione informed us that we would be at Hogwarts in about an hour.

"What, 'Mione, did you memorize the schedule for that too?" I teased her. It wasn't serious, it never was.

She rolled her eyes, then glanced between Harry and I. She had done it several times since we had arrived, and I was starting to worry. What if she had caught on to me? I mentally begged her to stay quiet about the whole thing. I had spent most of the last two years trying to deny my feelings, but last summer, things had changed.

Harry had come to my house, same as usual, but there was one difference. He didn't sleep any more. He had always been plagued by nightmares, and I had always been there, a shoulder to lean or cry on, whatever he needed. But they had become really bad over the summer, to the point where he screamed in his sleep. Before, he'd been restless, occasionally sobbing during a particularly horrible one, but it had changed.

And one night when I held his shaking body close, unsure how to give him the comfort he needed, he had spilled the truth out to me. At the end of last year, our sixth, he had faced Voldemort yet again. He had escaped, but before he had, Voldemort had placed a curse on him, a Nightmare Curse. The Nightmare Curse was a little-known bit of Dark Magic that had no reversal spell. The only way to remove it was to kill the caster, or to destroy their wand.

Harry hadn't known until too late.

While we had been at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had gotten Madam Pomfrey to give him a dreamless sleep potion, so the nightmares were tolerable. But dreamless sleep was addictive, and when he'd left Hogwarts, he'd stopped taking the potion. The curse took it's toll on him. He hadn't slept in almost a month when he arrived at the Burrow.

For the rest of the summer, I slept in the same bed with him, holding him through the terrors of whatever his dreams conjured to torture him.

And during one sleepless night, I accepted the fact that I was in love with Harry Potter.

I wasn't the only one who was, of course. Harry had been leaving a steady stream of broken hearts all around Hogwarts, though he didn't know it. He never intentionally hurt any of them; he just never saw.

I could never tell Harry, that I was sure of. If I did, our friendship would be ruined. He didn't share my feelings, there was no hope in that.

So as we sat in the train compartment, laughing and joking, there was an undercurrent of tension. He knew I was keeping something from him. He also knew that we couldn't sleep together at Hogwarts. He didn't want to talk about it, but we both knew we needed to. Hermione knew about the curse, of course - keeping things from her was a pointless exercise, we'd discovered.

Harry didn't want anyone to know. So we were avoiding the subject like the plague.

Hermione finally threw up her hands in frustration and cried, "You two are so stupid! I'm leaving to find some sanity. Talk about it. You need to." And she left.

We stared after her. I wanted to scream frantically in her ear, "No! Mione, I can't do this!" - but I couldn't. Instead I turned my eyes on Harry.

Any weight he had once gained from eating regular meals at Hogwarts and at my house was gone, and there were dark circles under his eyes. I knew my own were similar, but his also held a haunted look I wanted nothing more than to kiss away.

He was looking at me too, and cleared his throat. "There's something I have to tell you. I'm not sure how to say this, so please let me stumble along. I- Ron, I've never had friends before. And you're my best friend- no insult to Hermione. You mean everything to me. When I wake up during one of those nightmares and you hold me, you're all that keeps me from just giving in. I guess what I'm trying to say is- I think I'm in love with you. Please don't hate me."

He looked at me with those lovely eyes and I wondered what the hell he was thinking.

My throat was so tight I could barely breathe, certainly couldn't manage to get a word out. So I did the next best thing. I kissed him.

All the passion I had hidden for so long, all the love I had stuck in a corner of my mind and ignored, all of it poured out into that kiss. Soon Harry and I were practically trying to suck each other's tonsils out. Finally we broke apart, gasping, and grinned.

"I love you too." The words weren't adequate to describe the feelings racing through the pit of my stomach at that moment. He seemed to share my opinion on the subject, and kissed me again.

Hermione chose that moment to reenter the compartment.

Harry and I pulled away from each other regretfully. But she smiled, so obviously happy for us that I hugged her, just on impulse. Harry joined the hug a minute later, and the grin on her face widened.

"So, I see you worked it out? It took you long enough."


	3. Last Day

**Chapter 3- Last Day**

_Now_

The train stops, eventually, and I slowly climb to my feet. Cedric and his friends are gone already. I know I will soon have to face everyone I've avoided since Harry died, two years ago.

I realize, startled, that this is the first time I've thought of him that way- dead- since the funeral. That is one memory I won't think about.

I walk slowly from the train, wondering idly what it's going to be like to be back at Hogwarts...and as a teacher, no less!

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" I hear the familiar voice and glance over the heads of the students to see Hagrid, holding a lantern and calling. My throat aches as I realize how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same.

"Good ter see ye, Ron," Hagrid adds softly as I walk up beside him.

"D'you mind if I ride with the first years? It's been too long since I've seen the castle." I ask the question casually, not wanting Hagrid to know how much I've missed this place.

"'Course you can, Ron. We've missed ye."

I know the "we" is a silent rebuke on Hermione's behalf. She must have been furious when I didn't write her. But after what happened...I just couldn't face her, or anyone else.

I follow the first years to the lake, and climb into a boat with three students, all of whom give me the looks of awe I remember always going to Harry. _Don't_ I want to scream. _I didn't do anything to be proud of!_

But they honor me anyway.

As we approach the castle, I'm somewhat amused by the looks on their faces as they get their first glimpse of it- absolute awe mixed with a sort of terror I knew too well. They were going to school _here_?

I could almost smile.

Hagrid knocks on the door three times, exactly like in my first year. Minerva McGonagall opens the door, unsmiling, and nods. "Thank you, Hagrid."

I listen to her speech to the first years, the same as it was then. When the new students troop off to the Great Hall, Minerva looks at me and smiles.

"Ron, I'm glad you came." The years, and the war, have softened her. She is no longer the thin-lipped terror of all the students. Instead, she's the sympathetic ear to listen to their troubles, the teacher they can talk to.

I haven't written 'Mione, but she's written me, and I always read the letters.

When I don't respond, Minerva's smile slips and she shakes her head. "Ron, I know you miss him. So do I...so do we all. Everyone lost someone, whether lover or friend or family... But you have to move on. Albus once told me that it doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. He was right, Ron. Harry wouldn't have wanted you to give up, simply because he's gone."

It is quite possibly the most emotional speech I've ever heard her make, excepting the one she made at the funerals...no, I won't think about that.

But the feeling of bitterness that's never far away since the final battle has risen again at full strength, and I can't keep myself from reacting to her words. "You're as bad as Hermione - "Honestly, Ron, he wouldn't want this!" Well, I'm bloody well aware of that, thank you very much for your concern. If he wasn't so damned obsessed with keeping me alive he'd be here, wouldn't he? But you know what, I don't care, because there's no point trying if he isn't here!"

I realize, too late, that I've just let slip to Minerva the one thing I swore never to tell anyone. And she understood. Damn.

"What do you mean, pushed you aside?" And then, her voice considerably softer, "He saved your life, didn't he." It's not a question. "And died for it."

_No_, I think, trembling. This is my private shame, my inner darkness that she has no right to. No one should know that I'm the reason they lost their golden hope, their savior. I as good as killed him, but they shouldn't know that, can't know that. It's my secret, my pain that will never go away. The one thing that would make those looks of awe on the children's faces vanish, the one thing that would turn 'Mione from me, the one thing that would make me an exile, not by choice but by force...

To my immense shock, she steps forward and embraces me. "We all have to live with things that happened during the war, Ron. But don't let it ruin everything. Harry wanted you to live very much, or he wouldn't have saved you. Don't make his sacrifice worthless."

She steps back, tears sparkling in her eyes, and I feel my own eyes begin to water. She's right, probably - she always has been in the past - but I still can't...

"If you want to skip the Feast tonight, I'll understand completely. You know where your rooms are, of course." Her voice is more normal now, and she smiles, slightly, before walking back to the Great Hall. "And, Ron, try to think about what I said. You're only thirty years old."

I nod and walk out of the Entrance Hall. As I pass by a small sheltered alcove along one wall, a memory flashes through my mind - a quick kiss before a game, Harry flushed and excited, me nervous and tense. Both of us so frightened of getting caught that we never thought of the time we were wasting, hidden away with our stupid secrets.

As my feet follow the familiar pathways to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and the adjoining professor's rooms, I decide abruptly not to venture there yet. Instead, I wander the hallways I know so well, every corridor full of memories. For a moment, I wonder where to go, and then the answer strikes me. The place that was my home for the seven happiest years of my life. Gryffindor Tower.

When I reach the portrait hole, I feel an unexpected pang that the painting I had seen so often in my youth was gone. During the Death Eaters' attack on Hogwarts the day of graduation, the Fat Lady had been destroyed utterly. Now the painting guarding the portrait hole was a knight, clunking about in armor that didn't seem to fit.

Sir Cadogan peered at me for a long moment, brows furrowed in concentration. Trying to place me, I realize. It's nice for someone to not know me on sight.

"Aren't you a Weasley?" he demands suspiciously, and when I nod he glares. "In that case, I suppose I have to let you in, password or no password." I nod again. "Well, then." And the portrait swung aside.

I enter the common room, and feel as though I have inadvertently stepped into the past. Everything is the same as when I last saw it, except for the complete emptiness.

A fire crackles merrily in the hearth, and puffy armchairs are scattered about the room, some pulled up to tables and some not. The Gryffindor banners hanging on the walls look the same, if a bit newer. McGonagall's really made an effort to restore the place after the attack. For a moment, I can almost see different banners, of a boy on a broomstick, and a dragon. Then the image is gone, and instead I see a young bushy-haired girl attempting to read a thick book. Two redheaded boys collapse, laughing, into armchairs near her as Filibuster's Fireworks explode around them, and she shakes her head tolerantly, amused. Two other boys play chess nearby, one also redheaded, one raven-haired and emerald-eyed. Then they're gone, too, and I am left with an empty room and entirely too many memories which threaten to drown me. 

This has been happening more and more, recently, this terrible pressure of the past, when everything that ever was between Harry and I plays through my mind with absolute disregard for how much I hurt, and I can't even fight the immense suffocation of it all. It's blackness coming in through my thoughts, the only things I can never escape, and I'm not sure if I want to let go and never come back up for air, or if I want to fight for just one more breath, one more moment when I'm not quite dead yet, though I really might as well be and what's the point of fighting, again, anyway?

Slowly, I pull myself out of the relentless tide of what once, I'm sure, was an emotion I reveled in, but now is only another source of torment. Gryffindor Tower is too thick with what we once were, and I run, gasping for precious air even though I know that, rationally, there's no reason I should be short of breath.

Twenty minutes later, in considerably more control of myself, I'm in another familiar corridor. There is a flood of water on the floor, and I feel a shock. She can't still be...

With an almost-smile on my face, I open the door labeled "Girl's Restroom" and hear the sound of sobbing coming from the end toilet. As I open the door, Moaning Myrtle floats out and stares at me.

"What are you doing here? You're a boy. " And then, evidently getting a better look at my face, "Aren't you the boy who used to hang around with Harry all the time? You made that potion in here, once."

That sounds oddly right, being "the boy who hung around Harry" again. That's who I was when I was nobody and he was famous and we were happy. Tears start up again in my eyes, only this time one escapes to trickle down my cheek. Myrtle notices it and brightens considerably. "What's upset you?" she asks delightedly.

"Memories." She peers at me closely again, then shakes her head sadly.

"He was a very nice boy. I think he was the first person I liked since I died," she says, and for once it's not self-pity that tinges her voice with sadness. She truly had cared for Harry.

"I...liked...him too."

She nods. "I remember. You two used to sneak in here when you thought I was gone and snog."

I blush furiously. Not even 'Mione had known about those impromptu snogfests we had enjoyed in dark corners and broom closets, and, occasionally, Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom.

The thought that's been chasing, half-formed and nerve-wracking, through my mind since I realized I was coming to Hogwarts suddenly solidifies and I quietly ask Myrtle for a favor.

_Later..._

I sit, almost calmly, in my new rooms. Everything has been brought up already, and I have little to do. So I plan my first lessons. It still seems odd...me, a professor.

I give up on the lesson plans and start to pace, waiting. Myrtle has agreed to speak to 'Mione for me, and now all I have to do is wait for her. And it isn't easy.

And then the door bursts open, and Hermione enters the room. She doesn't knock, not that I would have expected her to in the first place. In seconds she's thrown her arms around my neck and is hugging me frantically, murmuring my name again and again.

Mental. I've thought so since I met her. But I love her for her very craziness. That slight spark of insanity had started many a wild time with the three of us.

There are hot tears falling from her eyes onto my shoulder, but she doesn't let go, and neither do I. I've missed her, this bushy-haired, bossy, brilliant girl. This bushy-haired, bossy, brilliant, pregnant girl, I realize, startled. _What on Earth..._

I don't realize until too late that the last was spoken out loud. She grins up at me, patting her rounded belly. It's not huge but it's not her usual size, either, and I'd guess that she's about four months along.

"Vicky?" I ask aloud. She glares for a second, then loses control of the expression. She's missed me, too.

"Of course it's Victor's. Who else? And, Ron, we're getting married next month. Isn't it wonderful?" she laughs up at me, daring me say otherwise. I answer her the only way a smart man could, and then spin her around a few times.

Life really has gone on, while I've been sequestered away.

We talk for hours. She admits that she should be at the Feast right now, as Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House. She took over that position from Minerva after Dumbledore died in the attack, and Minerva became Headmistress.

She and Vicky (old habits die hard, and he's going to remain Vicky in my thoughts) have been happy together since we were in fourth year, and he proposed the day he found out she was pregnant. What had amused her, though, was that he had intended to ask that day anyway, and her announcement only spurred him on. I'm glad for her, glad that she, at least, has done something since...that day. As we continue to chat, I let myself dwell silently on the last day we'd had together, before the war truly began and everything went to hell. If only we'd known, we would have forgotten fear and made the big leap...

_Then_

Harry laughed, emerald eyes dancing, as I kissed his stomach, right where he was most ticklish. The indignant squeal - though I'd never call it that to his face - that emerged from him as I licked said ticklish spot was the funniest thing I'd heard all morning.

"Ron!" he managed to gasp out, between desperate pants of laughter, "We can't do this now!"

I stopped tormenting him, for the moment, and grinned goofily. "I don't see why not. Best way to celebrate the end of our career as Hogwarts students, wouldn't you say? Make our predecessors proud by doing something that would shock the entire wizarding community?"

"Oh, God, I can see the headlines now - 'Shocking Sex Scandal Revealed: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley Caught In the Act!' Frankly, Ron, I'd rather skip that part."

I pouted, but I knew not to push. It was the one thing Harry demanded out of our whole relationship - secrecy. Personally, I could give a flying fuck what other people thought of us, but Harry worried about things like that, so I gave in. It wasn't much to ask, really, when he made me happier than I'd ever been in my life. No, the price was, overall, shockingly low.

I should have known better.

At that moment, though, all I could think about was the wonderful silk-smooth softness of his skin beneath my hands and the sweet smile on his face. Yes, I was deliriously in love.

"Oh, honestly you two. It's wonderful that you're together, really it is, but do you have to be so very public with it? Imagine if someone besides me had walked in," Hermione's voice calls from the open dormitory door. She's exasperated, as she has been since we told her to keep our relationship a secret. She doesn't see the point, but respects Harry's wishes, and scolds us for his sake.

"Seamus would've found it hilarious, Neville would've stuttered and run for it, and Dean would've just ignored the whole thing. What are you so worried about, 'Mione?" I asked, still grinning as I climbed off Harry, and extended a hand to help him up.

"No, Ron, she's right. We should be more careful-"

"Why? This is our last day If they haven't figured it out by now they never will. And after today, we won't be staying in the dorm anymore, so no need to worry about privacy."

"Yes, Ron, because your family are so much less nosy than the rest of Gryffindor."

"Well, the Burrow's only temporary, and I don't know why we can't tell them, they won't care in the least!"

Hermione groaned, sick to death of this particular bit of bickering, and slammed the door behind her.

Harry bit his lip, and I felt a pang of regret for even touching on the subject. He'd been so happy.

"Stop worrying, Harry. We'll be careful, okay? I promise to be good," I said, leaning over to kiss his forehead, amused that he was still so much shorter than me.

"I- Ron, I know it must bother you to be so quiet about it, and I'm really sorry."

Oh Merlin. Not the guilt thing again, please not the guilt. "Harry, drop it. We're okay...and what are we doing thinking today, anyway? It's graduation. We should be pulling stupid pranks with everyone else."

"Yeah..."

I dragged him down into the Common Room, then to the Great Hall for a late breakfast. For once, today, the teachers didn't care particularly when we got up, ate, or did anything.

The day passed quickly, joking and relaxing with the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years, then becoming more and more serious as the hours slid away, as we slowly realized that this was our last day at Hogwarts.

And then, the Graduation Ceremony was coming up, and we were frantic to be dressed and presentable. Harry started trying to brush his hair, a sure sign he was nervous, and I kept trying to alter my dress robes, which, even though they were far better than my old set - I still don't know where Fred and George got them - were at this point two and a half years old, and a bit short. Neville's stutter, which had been steadily improving over the years, was in full force, and Seamus was releasing his tension with a full-fledged Irish serenade of "Take Me Home Again, Kathleen." Dean just got quieter and quieter.

And then the world exploded.

At least, that's what I thought it was at the time. Fire and pain and stone shattering all around me, and in the background I vaguely heard someone screaming.

There was green light everywhere, and through a haze of blood that seemed smeared over my thoughts, I knew what green light meant. _Avada Kedavra._

Harry.

It was all I could think coherently - though "coherently" might be a bit of an overstatement. I just knew I had to find Harry, protect him, somehow...

I don't know if I walked or crawled to his side, I truly don't. I remember agony flowing through my left side and down my leg, remember that I grabbed his arm and shook him, desperate for him to answer me, to live.

Green eyes opened, stared at me in a daze. "Ron?" His voice was scratchy, and there was blood trickling from a cut next to his eyes in an obscene parody of a tear. 

"Harry, love, they've attacked Hogwarts." My words were calm, because there was no emotion to express what was going through me.

He sat up, shaking, and took in what remained of our dorm. It was all smoke and ashes, obscuring my vision, and his glasses were cracked, so he couldn't have seen much of anything, but we noticed Seamus at about the same time.

He was dead, there was no doubt of that. His wand was clutched in a rigid grip, his laughing eyes now glazed and unseeing. Beside him lay another body, shrouded in black, and I realized what had happened. He'd fought our attacker while Harry and I lay unconscious, probably saved our lives, and been killed in the process.

I'd never seen a dead body before. I was doomed to see many more before the day was over.

We fought, of course. Harry and I managed to pull each other to our feet, and we didn't stop to look for Dean and Neville. If they were alive, they wouldn't be for long.

The stairs were mostly smashed, but we stumbled down them awkwardly, and ended mostly upright in the Common Room.

There were Death Eaters, probably ten of them, I don't know. I'd never been very good at dueling, but I knew how to play dirty. I did. It took all my fledgling powers to keep myself alive, and I'm fairly sure I only did that because Harry was too tired to cover his own back, and I couldn't risk him.

The whole night we fought for Hogwarts. It was surreal, watching people I knew die around me as I killed for the first time. At first, the smell of blood and death threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to become accustomed to it. I had no choice.

I gave up hope of ever seeing Hermione again after the first few hours with not even a glimpse of her. I was sure she'd died in the first attack, and I wept for her even as I fought.

There were occasional snatches between the battles, moments when Harry and I stumbled through the wreckage of familiar hallways, searching the rubble for those we knew. These breathers never lasted long, and then there were more black cloaks coming at us.

We met up with some of the teachers at one point, McGonagall and Snape hurling curses side-by-side, but got cut off from them fairly quickly. I watched Draco Malfoy defend the castle as desperately as I did, and watched him fall before a Death Eater who, when his hood fell back, was revealed as Draco's father.

Years later, I would remember that moment when I killed Lucius.

With dawn, though, came a reprieve. The Death Eaters retreated, and the straggling survivors fell into the Great Hall, looking around to see who lived and who didn't.

Hermione was there, bleeding from a dozen wounds and streaked with tears, but she'd never looked more beautiful to me. Harry and I didn't let go of her for an hour, I'm sure.

Dumbledore led a group of Ravenclaws in, and somehow he didn't have a scratch on him. That gave us all a little more cheer, and people kept looking at him, then over at Harry, and smiling.

They had hope, at least.

Harry and I...well. He looked at me, and there were tears in his eyes. "Ron," he whispered, holding me close for a long time. "I love you, okay? Just make sure you know that."

He left, then. He went with Dumbledore, I never found out exactly where to.

I stayed behind, and Hermione and I worked with McGonagall in organizing resistance cells, once we realized Voldemort had attacked more than Hogwarts.

It was ten years before I saw Harry again.


	4. Last Moments

Chapter Four – Last Moments Now 

Terrifyingly enough, I find I enjoy teaching. Really, really enjoy it. I get frustrated easily, but only when my students aren't trying.

My first class of the day is a group of Hufflepuff first years. They're polite, respectful, uncomplaining, in awe of me and Hogwarts.

They're a little dull, actually. It's easy to see why our teachers always liked students with personality, like Fred and George, more than –

Oh, Merlin, Fred and George. I haven't let myself think about them in ages; I've kept them locked away in the compartment of my mind labeled "things that never happened."

It's not that I didn't mourn them, or that I didn't love them. Just that their deaths never felt real, that I never quite absorbed that I had lost them.

"Professor? Are you alright?" comes a concerned childish voice from behind me. I realize that I'm clutching my wand tight enough to snap it in half, and that I've stopped in the middle of an explanation.

"Yes, Ryan. I'm fine, thank you. I was jus distracted for a second there." I smile reassuringly at the class. "I used to do that all the time during History of Magic…found a charm that made my quill take notes for me."

They look intrigued, and also look determined not to ask. "The charm's name was Hermione…Professor Granger, to all of you."

The looks of astonishment on their faces are worth the embarrassment of drifting off mid-sentence. Hermione's going to kill me later, but I'm inclined to say she'll forgive me afterwards.

My next class is Gryffindor's third year, and they're considerably more entertaining than Hufflepuff.

They're done with their assignments early, so I ask them if there are any questions they have for me about Defense.

There's a long silence, and finally Cedric speaks up. "Um, professor, I think we're all wondering the same thing."

"And what is that, Cedric?"

"Well…that is, sir, you're pretty famous for, you know…" he trails off nervously.

His friend picks up where he left off. "For defeating Voldemort.."

"Right, that…" Cedric continues, "and I think we'd all like to hear about it, sir. That is, if you don't mind telling us."

I'm stunned for a moment. It occurs to me briefly that I should have expected something like this, but…dammit, I don't know what to tell these kids. That the greatest wizard who ever lived gave his life to save mine, and in the process made me his successor for fame and glory?

"Er…"

"I understand if it's too painful or whatever, sir," he offers quickly, but to my surprise I don't really mind telling him; I'm just not sure how to do it.

"No, no, it's alright. I suppose you all have the right to know what I did to deserve the job as your teacher. So, er, here goes, I guess." I take a deep, cleansing breath, trying to figure out where to begin. "So that day, the Battle of London? I was boxed in at the old Ministry offices, when all of a sudden Harry and my brother Charlie come barreling around the corner, wands out, and help me beat off this mixed army of werewolves and Death Eaters. That was bad enough –"

"You were alone, sir?" one small girl in the back asks, obviously enthralled.

"Until Harry and Charlie showed up, yeah," I answer distractedly, almost missing the look of impressed astonishment on her face. "So we finish off this crop of bad guys, and Harry's just standing there looking at me like he's never seen me before, and I can't quite figure out where the he - heck he came from. As far as Intelligence knew, he was in Poland hunting down Voldemort. So I was, you know, lost." I'd been more than lost – I'd been shaking as I stared at him, wanting to touch him more than I'd ever wanted to do anything in my life. And Charlie had just kind of smirked once he said hello.

"We stumbled back to base, in the old Ministry lobby – the Apparition wards were still up in London then – and settled in for the evening. Charlie took first guard shift," and the rest of that night isn't for kid's ears.

Harry and I had gone off to a corner to talk. He'd held on to me so tightly I was sure he'd cracked a rib, both of us unable to get past the realization that nothing had changed at all.

"_I've dreamed of you every second of every day,"_ he told me, face buried in my neck. "_Don't ever let me leave you again, Ron."_

"_I won't,"_ I remember murmuring into his hair. "_I'll follow you, I promise."_

We were still talking when Charlie came to tell Harry it was his shift. Harry headed back for the central passageway, and Charlie sat down beside me for a "brotherly chat."

"I think this whole long-distance depression thing is a terrible idea. You and Harry need to get your acts together, Ron."

Later, Harry slid under the blanket with me to say that Charlie had taken my shift, and suddenly his hands were everywhere…

"It couldn't have been more than a few hours later that they attacked again – and this time, it wasn't just Voldemort's flunkies. It was Old Moldy Wart himself. Harry was in what Hermione called his "saving-people" mode – the one where he was so focused on what he had to accomplish, he couldn't see anything else. That was always when he was in the most danger, so I stayed at his back as wave after wave of Death Eaters crashed in on us. I lost sight of Charlie pretty quickly, and thought he'd gone down, but as it turned out he had snuck around their lines and was hacking through from behind. It was pretty effective, and we had the upper hand most of the battle, until Voldemort started in. He'd seen his guys were losing, so he decided to "take care of us himself" or whatever the cliché line is. So he attacked me first, thinking I was the weakest link in the chain, I guess. I dodged a couple _Avada Kedavras_, and then Harry got involved, trying to distract Mister 'I'm a Creepy Dark Lord.' It worked in that it got Voldemort's attention, all right, but it also put Harry in more danger than I could accept. So I motioned Charlie to back me up, and we took a huge risk on some old Blood Magic McGonagall had mentioned in passing once. The _donner de l'âme_, this old French spell, if you've heard of it. Literally the 'giving of soul,' though it wasn't actually that hard; it just demanded a lot of willpower. We cast it together, and it basically took out all the Death Eaters. It didn't affect Voldemort, because it attacks the soul, and of course he didn't have one. But it let the three of us focus on him."

I take a moment, because I really want the bell to ring before I can finish my story. We all know how this ends, after all.

There's no bell, and I continue shakily, "Charlie got cascaded by some rocks when a spell ricocheted off a wall, so he was out cold. The whole room was glowing green with _Avada Kedavra_, because none of us were playing anymore. I almost got hit, and Harry spent a moment too long making sure I was okay…" This lie is practiced, but it still terrifies me to repeat it. "Voldemort shot off a killing curse faster than he had any right to, and I dove for Harry to try to knock him down, shield him, anything," my voice is shaking now, "but the light was all around him and then he was just this limp body in my arms…and I just sort of snapped.

"I know you all want to know how I finished Voldemort off, but to be honest I don't even know. I was in shock; I think I cast the _donner de l'âme_ again, but I'm nowhere near sure. Whatever I did…pretty soon there was one more black-cloaked body on the floor, and…

"I don't remember much after that, not for a long time. I know, because he told me, that Charlie shook himself conscious with chills, and found me unconscious beside Harry. I know he levitated both of us out of the Ministry, and I know he contacted HQ to say Voldemort was dead. For weeks afterward, everyone had to clean up the aftereffects, what with some Death Eaters being too desperate to surrender. I missed all of it, though, because I was in a coma at St Mungo's. They blamed it on the strength of whatever spell I'd cast; I blame it on losing Harry. Then I woke up, and here I am."

There is complete, repressive silence in the classroom, except for a quiet sniffling at the back. I glance up from my hands for the first time and realize that every female in the room is in tears, and not a few of the boys.

"Not as glorious as you expected, was it? War never is. If you learn nothing else from me in this class, learn that. War is not honorable or easy or clean, and it is an evil to be avoided with all the strength you have in you."

They're all solemn, and with a desperate need to lighten the mood, I ask, "So whose class do you have next?"

There's silence; I think for a moment that they're going to ignore me, but then Sarah speaks up. "Transfiguration with Professor Granger, sir."

Hermione's going to kill me.

"Okay, then, before your Transfiguration teacher turns me into a rabbit, I'm going to make today better – who wants to relearn Cheering Charms?"


End file.
